A unique fluffy bird in the wild West Highlands of Scotland

Month: January 2015

By Saturday morning it seemed that the worst of the blizzards had passed for the time being, and the world looked somewhat brighter. As Algy perched on a soft cushion of young spruce branches near the entrance to the forest, the sun broke through the snow clouds and lit up the beautiful woodland on the far side of the deep freshwater loch. For a few bright moments, the whole world seemed transformed :))

Algy hopes that you will all have some bright moments when the world seems illuminated, this weekend xoxo

The next morning, Algy ventured back out onto the moor to see what was happening. Intermittent blizzard conditions persisted, but the snow was soft and wet and mixed with sleet, so it tended to melt partially before the next wave swept in. The wind, on the other hand, was fierce and bitter. Algy tried to keep as close to the ground as possible, with his back to the icy blasts. But even in such shelter as he could find, he noticed that all his feathers became aligned in one direction… never a good sign!

As the piercing wind stung his face, Algy remembered a rather unusual poem by Keats:

O thou whose face hath felt the Winter’s wind, Whose eye has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist, And the black elm-tops ‘mong the freezing stars, To thee the Spring will be a harvest-time. O thou, whose only book has been the light Of supreme darkness which thou feddest on Night after night when Phoebus was away, To thee the Spring shall be a triple morn. O fret not after knowledge – I have none, And yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge – I have none, And yet the Evening listens. He who saddens At thought of idleness cannot be idle, And he’s awake who thinks himself asleep.

[ Algy is quoting the poem The Winter’s Wind by the early 19th century English poet John Keats. ]

The weather was so unpleasant, and the wind so strong, that Algy decided it would be wise to take shelter in the great forest. Even there, the storms had taken their annual winter toll, and many trees had fallen. But a fallen tree can provide a welcome home for many wee creatures, and an excellent perch for a fluffy bird, so Algy soon found a comfortable place to rest and recover from the battering of the snow-laden gales. As he looked at the trees all around him, Algy thought of the famous poem by Robert Frost:

Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

[ Algy is quoting the poem Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by the 20th century American poet Robert Frost. ]

“One question has arisen: what is the correct pronunciation of Algy’s name?”

And this is of course an excellent question. Algy realises that many of his friends are not native English speakers, and even those who are may perhaps pronounce his name in different ways. But of course Algy and his assistants only pronounce his name in one way.

So here is the official answer:

The A is the diaphoneme æ so it sounds like the a in cat. The first part of Algy’s name is therefore Al as in Alan.

The g is soft: the diaphoneme d͡ʒ so it sounds like a j – as in joy or Jenny :)) This should not be confused with the hard g in the word algae, which apart from the hard g sounds the same!

The y is an “eee” sound, as in the words see or city… or Jenny :))

So now everyone can pronounce Algy’s name in the same way that he does xoxo

The wind was whistling across the moor at speeds close to 40mph, and frequent showers of snow and ice were blasting across the ridges. The forecast said that the weather would continue to deteriorate, so Algy tucked himself down in the lee of a rock, pulled his hat firmly onto his head and clenched his beak, bracing himself for yet another winter storm…

In the West Highland winter, the sun is very rarely seen, and the sky can remain heavy and grey for months on end. Such conditions are not for the faint-hearted, but Algy knew that from time to time the sun would manage to break through a gap in the clouds. As he leaned back against a sheltering rock on top of the moor, with the fleeting silvery rays illuminating the Sound in the distance, he thought of those of his friends experiencing dark times, and remembered a poem:

I have seen the sun break through to illuminate a small field for a while, and gone my way and forgotten it. But that was the pearl of great price, the one field that had treasure in it. I realise now that I must give all that I have to possess it. Life is not hurrying

on to a receding future, nor hankering after an imagined past. It is the turning aside like Moses to the miracle of the lit bush, to a brightness that seemed as transitory as your youth once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

This post is dedicated especially to Algy’s friends seagirl49 and seoulsearching97 and to all those experiencing times of darkness xoxo

[ Algy is quoting the poem The Bright Field by the 20th century Welsh poet and Anglican priest R. S. Thomas. ]

As Algy looked out from his perch in the grey afternoon, he thought of all his friends in the north-eastern USA who were bracing themselves for what might be the biggest snowstorm on record. The spattering of snow around Algy’s home was negligible in comparison, and he wondered what it would be like to be completely overwhelmed by a massive snowfall…